Listening Beethoven “Bagatelles – Allegretto” - 1:20 am
What love is made of
If my love didn’t know Beethoven?
What love is made of
If my lover didn’t understand me
And what understanding is made of
If love can’t reach it?
I once had a love
and what a forceful love can do
Is changing your core
And make you forget
Because love is dangerous
And tricky as a mischievous thief
What love is made of
Is something inexplicable and small
Mysterious and obscure
Like the music of the whales
Singing underneath the ocean,
floating instruments that vibrate
with the pulsar immobility of the stars above.
We are a connected breathing thing
played in the hand of a lonely child
What love is made of
Is something I can’t tell and you can’t tell.
The mystery of the frog jumping on the pond
The mathematic beauty of a sonata
What love is made of
Is tears and raw skin
And lonely afternoons
A sip of tea when you crave a strong Merlot
The hand that left you
At the corner of the road,
With no child and no house.
What love can do to you
is frightful and without words
Like the name of the Jehovah and the angels
Something that takes place and counts the sweet breaths
Between you and I
And me and you
What love can do to me?
It’s something I don’t want to know
I suffered and cried
And nothing changed.
My heart is now
a flat, harvested field,
A sky without clouds.
Pointless and sinister.
